


a devil put aside

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Demon Summoning, Don't copy to another site, Pre-Canon, The Bentley - Freeform, listen i'm really sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 16:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Crowley had only a brief tug deep in his gut to warn him before he was pulled through space from his flat in Mayfair to a summoning circle in a dank basement.With a deep sigh he lowered his plant mister and pulled his sunglasses off his face, tucking them into the inside pocket of his jacket.  Whoever had summoned him clearly knew he was a demon, there was no need to keep up any pretense.  And maybe if he freaked out whatever human thought it was a good idea to dabble in the occult, they would break the circle and he could head home.  He had plans for dinner with Aziraphale later, and the angel would be insucha state if he was later than normal for their reservation.[Crowley gets summoned]





	a devil put aside

**Author's Note:**

> Title, of course, from Queen's [Bohemian Rhapsody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ).

_ **1971** _

Crowley had only a brief tug deep in his gut to warn him before he was pulled through space from his flat in Mayfair to a summoning circle in a dank basement.

With a deep sigh he lowered his plant mister and pulled his sunglasses off his face, tucking them into the inside pocket of his jacket.Whoever had summoned him clearly knew he was a demon, there was no need to keep up any pretense.And maybe if he freaked out whatever human thought it was a good idea to dabble in the occult, they would break the circle and he could head home.He had plans for dinner with Aziraphale later, and the angel would be in _such_ a state if he was later than normal for their reservation.

Crowley’s lips twisted into an irritated frown, and he glanced around the basement.It smelt damp, as basements often did, and was lit only by a few shafts of sunlight filtering in from a deep-set window and a dim lightbulb overhead.He glanced down next at the summoning circle constraining him, poking at it with his senses— it had been drawn more or less properly in white chalk on the concrete floor, and he could tell with just a little exploration that he probably wouldn’t be able to get out on his own, at least not quickly.

Crowley stifled a sigh and then turned in a slow circle, looking around for whoever had summoned him.There was a small shuffling sound from one corner of the room, and then a young man stepped forward, a book open in his hands and his eyes wide.

“It worked,” he whispered, sounding equal parts amazed and terrified.His gaze darted from Crowley’s yellow eyes to his tattoo to his snakeskin boots before returning to his face.

Crowley bent to set down his plant mister, figuring it didn’t exactly help his image, and then raised an eyebrow.“Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

“You’re English?” the young man said in surprise.

“What did you expect me to be?” Crowley asked curiously.

The young man blinked.“I don’t suppose Hell has an accent,” he muttered, and then looked back down at his book.“Well.Demon Crawly, I have summoned thee—“

“Crowley,” Crowley interrupted bored, and crossed his arms over his chest.“I changed it.”

“That’s not what the book said,” the young man started unsurely, looking down at the page he was open to.

Crowley sneered.“I don’t suppose my request form to update the occult grimoires has been filed Downstairs,” he said, and then snapped his fingers impatiently.“Come on, hurry up, I have stuff to do today.”

The man cleared his throat.“Right.Demon Crawly— Crowley— I have summoned thee hence to do my bidding, thou art bound by these words and sigils to obey my command henceforth until thou art released—“

“What is it you want?” Crowley interrupted.He paced in a tight circle around the insides of the summoning circle.“Fortune, fame, women, men?”

The young man paused.“You—” he started, and then shook his head.“No,” he said.“At least, not directly.I’m in this band, you see, and I want you to make sure we’ll be successful.”He looked up, ambition and pride shining in his eyes.

Crowley blinked.“Oh, yeah?” he said, vaguely amused.“Do you have any records or anything?Of your music?I’ll need to hear, of course, in order to make any deals.”

The man nodded quickly.“One moment.”He set the book down on the concrete floor and dashed up a narrow set of stairs.

Crowley crept forward and craned his neck, taking a quick look at the book’s page to check his spelling before crouching.His finger sparked and he traced a small sigil in ash on the inside edge of the circle, rendering the whole thing null.He stood, shaking the sparks out of his hand, and remained in the middle of the circle.He could leave whenever he wanted, now, but this might be an entertaining story to tell Aziraphale later at the least.

A moment later the young man returned, a record in hand.He crossed the room to a decrepit old record player on a table against the far wall, and fiddled around a moment before putting the record on.

Crowley tilted his head to listen closely as music started to play, a little crackly from the quality of the record player.It was a little rough, he had to admit, picking apart the notes with the ear of someone who had spent centuries listening to music when he could.But the tune was relatively catchy, and the singer had a nice voice.

“Well?” the young man said impatiently as the song ended, and he reached out to stop the record player from going on to the next one.

Crowley laced his fingers together, rested them behind his head.“Why are you not content with whatever success you might get on your own?” he asked curiously.“It’s not bad.”

“I want to be sure,” the young man said firmly.

Crowley hummed thoughtfully.“I can’t _make_ something successful or unsuccessful,” he said at last, picking his words carefully.“It’s more complicated than that, and free will is a very fiddly thing.”

The young man frowned.“You are bound to do my bidding, that’s what the book said,” he started.

Crowley pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket, glanced down at them before sliding them on to cover his eyes.“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.“I can’t just snap my fingers and make you an instant hit.”He probably could, but that was beside the point, and _Satan_ wasn’t Aziraphale’s influence rubbing off on him— “But, if you and your band ever hit the charts… let’s say, uh, top five.I’ll make sure everyone in the world has a copy of your music,” Crowley finished.“Yeah?”

“What do you want in return?” the young man asked suspiciously.

Crowley wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, and then waved a dismissive hand.“I don’t know, write me into a song or something,” he said.“Do we have a deal?”He glanced casually down at his watch, affecting unconcern.

“Deal,” the young man said with barely a moment of hesitation.He smiled.“I’m sure we can get on the charts.”

Crowley held out his hand to seal the deal and make the demonic miracle happen, and the man took it, shaking it firmly.“Nice doing business,” Crowley said, and then stepped out of the circle.The young man’s eyes widened, but he didn’t step back in fear.

Crowley raised his fingers to snap and transport himself back to his flat, but paused for just a moment.“Just out of curiosity,” he said.“What’s your band called?”

When the young man smiled, it was sharp.“If you haven’t heard of us yet, darling, you will soon,” he said.“We’re called Queen.”

* * *

_ **1976** _

Crowley got into his car with a long sigh and rested his head for just a moment on the steering wheel, giving his heart the chance to settle.It was amazing to be back in Aziraphale’s good books after their argument in 1862 and Crowley’s resulting nap, but he couldn’t, _couldn’t—_

He wasn’t sure if it was the gift of holy water nine years before or something else, but Aziraphale had been acting strangely for a while now.He kept sending Crowley looks, like he was searching for something that Crowley didn’t know how to give.When Crowley had walked in to the bookshop earlier, Aziraphale had taken his hands and looked him over carefully, like he expected to find holy water burns.And his voice, his voice when he called Crowley _my dear_—

Crowley muffled a strangled snarl and sat up properly, rummaging through his glove compartment.He didn’t normally listen to music while he drove, all the better to hear the angry car horns as he caused mayhem on the roads, but tonight he needed something to drown out his racing thoughts.

After a moment of fumbling he found a tape, probably the American bebop he had nicked from Aziraphale maybe a month or two before.He didn’t even glance at the case before popping it in, leaning back again.Hopefully that would be enough to distract him if he played it loud enough.

Crowley turned on the car, but paused before reaching for the gearshift as music that was decidedly _not_ bebop started playing.

_Love of my life, you’ve hurt me,_ the singer crooned over the soft strumming of a guitar, and Crowley’s heart clenched in his chest.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, jabbing at the tape player to change the song.The music switched to a bouncier tune, already in the middle of the song, and a voice sang, _I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really love you, oh, you’re my best friend_—

“This is _not_ funny,” Crowley hissed at his car, and pressed the button several times, cycling through fragments of songs that were nowhere near bebop, but all seemed to be by the same band.After a long moment he gave up and slumped back and let the unfamiliar music wash over him.

But as he listened half-heartedly he realized slowly that it wasn’t as unfamiliar as he had thought— he was sure after a moment that he had heard the singer’s voice before, and his memory flashed back to a dark basement a few years ago.Crowley reached out and rested one hand on the dash of his car, and sure enough, there was a little wriggling trace of his own demonic miracle.He knew without looking that the bebop tape had transmuted itself into an album of the band called Queen.

Crowley smiled slowly, reluctantly, and a little wryly.“For Satan’s sake,” he murmured, and then heard, _Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me_—

Crowley’s smile turned a little more genuine, and he reached for the gearshift of his car after turning the volume of the music up a little.“I’m sure I won’t get tired of this,” he mumbled.

When he finally pulled away from the curb and drove off, he was humming absently along with the music.

**Author's Note:**

> On anon bc of the rpf :')


End file.
